


Long Burdens

by Isilarma



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isilarma/pseuds/Isilarma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final splinter of the Morgul blade has been removed. Frodo will recover. But Gandalf and Elrond are all too aware that his trials have only just begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Burdens

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Kitty279 for reading this over for me.
> 
> Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the Tolkien Estate. I'm just borrowing a few things for a bit.

"Gandalf?"

Gandalf closed his eyes for a moment. "Yes, Pippin?"

"Is he going to be all right?"

It was the dozenth time he had heard that question in the past two hours, but Gandalf forced himself to answer patiently. "Lord Elrond is the greatest healer in Middle-earth."

"You've been saying that for the past three days," Merry growled. "Yet he's still getting worse."

Sam glared at him. "Don't you dare say that! He will get better, won't he Mister Gandalf?"

Gandalf suppressed a sigh as three pairs of eyes turned to him. "Lord Elrond is still working," he said. "There is still hope."

"That isn't an answer," Merry hissed.

Gandalf grimaced. Sam and Pippin might be willing to accept his assurances for the time being, but the Brandybuck, despite his proclivity for mischief, was no fool. He knew things were worse than Gandalf was willing to admit.

Not even during his recent experiences as Saruman's prisoner had Gandalf regretted the restrictions of his current form so fiercely. Elrond was doing all he could, but the power of the Nazgûl was no little thing. Seventeen days had Frodo fought the spell, an incredible feat to be sure, but one that could not last. Despite all their best efforts, the Ringbearer was fading.

"Gandalf. Tell us what's going on."

To his everlasting relief, Gandalf was saved from answering by the timely arrival of Elrond. The elf-lord's face was drawn with stress and fatigue, but he gave a slight smile as he shut the door behind him.

"I thought I told you to rest, Master Gamgee."

Sam shuffled his feet. "I tried, sir, I really did. How's Mister Frodo?" Gandalf rose to his feet, half-dreading the answer, but his fears were assuaged by the more genuine smile that lit his friend's features.

"He is out of danger. It will take some time for him to recover, but he will survive."

Sam gave a strangled sob and slumped to the ground, while Merry and Pippin exploded into cheers and questions. Gandalf just closed his eyes, content to bask in the knowledge that his foolishness had not cost his dear friend his life. If Frodo had faded... No, he could not go there. He forced his attention back to the present in time to hear Elrond respond to one of Merry's questions.

"It seems that a splinter had broken off during the attack. It had remained in the wound and was working its way towards his heart, but, fortunately, we were able to remove it."

Gandalf suppressed a shudder with an effort. A single splinter...

The silence was broken when Sam looked pleadingly up at Elrond.

"May we see him, sir? Please?"

Elrond's expression softened, and he rested a hand on the gardener's curly head. "Of course. He is resting now, but a short visit will do no harm."

Sam needed no encouragement. The words had barely left Elrond's lips before he was running past into the chamber, Merry hot on his heels. Pippin started after him, then paused.

"I'll go and get Bilbo," he announced. "He'll want to be here, even if I do have to wake him up."

"Pippin," Elrond began, but Pippin had already dashed away up the passage. Gandalf chuckled.

"Never try to restrain a Hobbit, mellon nîn; it will not end well."

"So I see," said Elrond wryly. "Though I am glad of it for Frodo's sake." He closed his eyes, and Gandalf frowned at the genuine weariness in his voice.

"Elrond?"

"I am well, mellon nîn," Elrond murmured. "The curse was stronger than I expected." He shook his head. "How Frodo managed to fight it for so long is beyond me."

"They are a remarkable folk," Gandalf agreed. "Simple, maybe, but there is a strength in them that few others possess, though they may not realise it themselves." He gave a small smile. "Indeed, most do not."

"I am glad that they do not have to," said Elrond quietly.

"As am I. But this time it has served Frodo well." Anyone else, and the consequences might have been very different. Elrond sighed.

"So far."

Gandalf felt a flicker of unease. "What is it? What have you seen?"

Elrond was silent for so long that Gandalf began to fear that he would not answer. Eventually though, the elf's shoulders slumped.

"It may be nothing," he said softly. "It was not clear." He turned to stare out of the window. "But I do not think it mere chance that Frodo should be strong enough to endure a trial that so few others could. I fear his part in this tale has not yet come to an end."

Gandalf closed his eyes. "I had hoped to spare him that."

"But you suspected. Else you would not have asked this of him." He looked back, the moonlight casting the lines of fatigue of his face into sharp relief. "He is not ready for this."

Gandalf sighed. "It may not come to that," he said quietly. "We still have time."

Elrond shook his head. "Not enough. Never enough."

Gandalf didn't reply. Elrond's words echoed his own thoughts all too vividly, and he wanted nothing more than to send Frodo and the others back to the Shire, back to their safe ordinary lives. The thought of asking any more of them was almost too much to bear. But he was struggling to see any alternative. Never had Gandalf seen anyone resist the Witch-King as Frodo had, let alone the lure of the Ring. Maybe...

Gandalf shook his head sharply. There was little more they could do tonight. Frodo was safe. The problem of the Ring remained, but, for tonight, that would have to be enough.

"Get some rest, mellon nîn," he said gently. "I will watch Frodo."

Elrond frowned at him. "I do not-"

"You have tended him since he arrived, and that was three days ago."

Elrond shook his head. "I should stay," he insisted. "Never has anyone endured that for so long. If there are unforeseen consequences-"

"Then we will inform you," Gandalf interrupted. "In the meantime, you need to recover your strength." Elrond still looked rebellious, and Gandalf had to fight the urge to sigh. "Must I recruit Glorfindel?"

Elrond's eyes narrowed. "I am not an elfling. I am well aware of my own limits."

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "That does not appear to be the case from where I am standing."

Elrond glared at him for a long moment before letting out a long sigh. "You will call me immediately if his condition changes?"

"I promise." He laid a hand on the elf's shoulder. "You have done all you can for Frodo. Go. I will stay with him."

Elrond lingered a moment longer, his gaze lingering on the door to Frodo's chamber, before he inclined his head. "Thank you."

Gandalf shook his head. "It was your skill that saved him." Though for what purpose, only the Valar could tell. From Elrond's expression, it was clear the same thought was on his mind.

"I only pray that this is the greatest trial he will have to face."

Gandalf bowed his head. "Valar valuvar."

Elrond just nodded. "He should wake in a few hours. I will return then." He cast a final glance towards where Frodo lay, before departing.

Gandalf let out a long sigh. Frodo was not the only one to carry a heavy burden. He shook his head; he could do nothing more that Elrond would accept. But Frodo was another matter. Gandalf turned, and silently entered the Hobbit's room.

There lay Frodo, his face finally free of the pain that had haunted him the past days. Sam and Merry sat on either side of the bed, each holding one of his hands, and talking in whispers so as not to wake him. Gandalf straightened at the sight. He would do what he could to take this burden from them.

But the final choice would not be his to make.

\---

Definitions:

Mellon nîn: My friend

Valar valuvar: May the will of the Valar be done.  
\---


End file.
